I took a hotel next to the bus terminal and in the morning got there an hour before the scheduled departure. I wanted to have plenty of time to figure out the procedure in case there were issues with my wanting to take my bike on the bus. It turned out to be straightforward. I had to remove the front wheel and then everything got jammed underneath with all the boxes and suitcases. The bus made many stops along the way and I always got out to try to keep the bike safe from stuff getting tossed on top of it, and was more or less successful. I decided not to stress too much about it, as there wasn't much I could do and even if there was damage it couldn't affect the ride at this point. And, as it turned out, everything arrived just fine (except for my stem cap clock that evidently fell out at some point... no great loss, it was stuck at 9:01 since Guerrero Negro).
The big surprise to me was the military checkpoints. Coming down I was used to getting waved through with nary a glance (autos too, it seemed) but on the way north things were much more serious. Several times we all had to disembark for bag searches. In one instance we sat on the bus while all the baggage was removed, and then had to go stand next to our bags while a sniffer dog came through. In another we stood next to a table to wait for our bag to be removed from the bus and then opened and inspected. At each stop a soldier would board the bus and inspect all the overhead bins and ask random people where they were from, what they did for a living, where they were going and why. This happened three times, the last two in the wee hours of the morning. I was never questioned by a soldier, but in La Paz some official came on board and asked me, and only me, for my papers.
Taking the bus back was a marvelous idea, I have concluded. It was a nice way to "rewind" the whole experience and get my head in the right place for my return to normal life. I very much enjoyed looking out the window and recognizing *everything*. Truly a nice way to conclude this adventure.
Big Volvo busses.
This was taken during the stop in La Paz.
A couple of non-angels "sat" in front.
They were part of a group of three adults and four kids occupying four seats of physical space and half the mental space of the bus.
Bikes have to go as pedestrians.
This put an end to a cottage industry where you used to be able to rent a bike, pedal to the front of the huge line of cars and return the bike at the border.
It was 5:30 and getting dark (and cold) when I finally walked onto the streets of San Ysidro so I abandoned my original idea of biking the 35ish miles from the border to my house. Instead I just tossed the bags and bike on the trolley before the doors closed, and then city bus from downtown to home.
